


if i could carry you from the grave, i would

by qthulhu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 02:16:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qthulhu/pseuds/qthulhu
Summary: If he holds on, Tony can't go anywhere. Tony's just a human, and Peter can carry a whole bus over his head. No power in the universe will pray this small man from his fingers.





	if i could carry you from the grave, i would

**Author's Note:**

> [leia](/users/shittyspacedads) inspired this i love u uwu

Titan echoes a distant Earth. Cold, dirty, atmosphere obliterated by irresponsible consumption. The air tastes like sulfur and the ground glows orange, a world burnt by carelessness.  

 

 

They might just have a chance to escape it, Peter thinks; or rather, he hopes with every beat of his chest. His heart putters incessantly. 

 

Tony Stark survived a fucking explosion and an alien invasion and a terrorist threat and a flame guy attack, a simple stab in the gut could never, ever take him out. So, when the dust settles and the coast is ominously clear, he practically trips over himself in his haste to Tony's side. Webbing knits his skin together before Peter even translates the desire to save his life into a thought.

He can't hear Karen - she's been silent since he dropped his mask back on Earth - but Mister Stark's A.I. FRIDAY voices congratulations for Peter's quick thinking. He collapses. Peter cradles his neck like flora in the fall, a moment away from crumbling in his grasp.

 

Mantis curls one of her thin fingers around her translucent antenna. She chews her lip and looks around, her ginormous pupils searching for one last sliver of light. She is the emotional glue of the Guardians. The defeat, while felt by all, rests firmly on her shoulders. Some of the weight is her own, the rest she prepares herself to carry for her family.

Peter empathises. His mentor is laying in his arms with a sort-of gushing hole in his chest. The terror he feels isn't just his own, but Pepper's and Tony's and Happy's and all the little kids that watched Iron Man fly away on their TVs.

 

Starlord drops to the ground, angry fat tears bubbling out of his eyes over and over and over again. His friends gather and anxiously place their hands on his back. Mantis meets Peter's gaze, somewhat knowingly, and gathers the grief in her palm, placing it with her own as she smooths it away with gentle pats on Starlord's shaking form. Peter looks away.

 

 

 

Starlord's screams die away, forgotten for the battle. 

 

 

They reconvene. They being Drax, Starlord, and Mantis, and reconvening being meeting Peter and Tony on their knees. Doctor Strange hovers on the outskirts of the group, silently resigned. The firmness in his eyes chills Peter to the spine. When the hairs on his arms stand, he first attributes it to the haunting expression.

 

But that illusion is broken quickly.

 

A body-wide itch follows, like the warning before Peter slaps into one of New York's many tall and horribly placed skyscrapers. He looks around, expecting Thanos to pop out with a full gauntlet and punch them around for sport.

When his bug buddy starts falling apart, Peter's gut feels greasy like he just inhaled five pizzas and several pounds of fries and washed all that down with Coke, like old school cocaine-laced Coca Cola. The more dust in the air, the more nauseous Peter gets. He doesn't even look at Drax or Quill when they die. That would make it real. He's dizzy with the possibility of Thanos's hand being the one to crush the life literally out of them, denial ticking away as their chalky remains choke him.

 

Peter hacks. His tongue is dry. His arms burn from all the action and his throat pounds. It'd be fair to bet that there are big, swollen bruises over his skin where Thanos grabbed him.

All the Guardians are gone and a beat passes. Another. Peter smiles, relief filling his veins like sunlight after a long storm.

Strange speaks for the first time since the battle.

"I'm sorry, Peter."

 

He goes quietly. Peter's throat isn't tight because of Thanos anymore. He looks at Tony because the itch is still there and Tony's not looking him in the eye. Peter grabs his arm. He shakes him, pleads with him, and clings to him. If he holds on, Tony can't go anywhere. Tony's just a human, and Peter can carry a whole bus over his head. No power in the universe will pray this small man from his fingers.

 

"Mister Stark, you're going to be okay," Peter croaks. It tastes like a lie, and he hates it. He swallows. Tony nods, spit turning to rust.

"If you ask FRI, she can send you home," he says. Clear streaks break up the blood and grey on Peter's cheeks. It's just them, Tony's gentle breathing, and the ghost of a civilization. 

 

"Please, Tony."

Peter feels it before it happens. The tingle all over his skin. Like gnats that won't go away. 

"Please, Tony, don't-" Peter closes his eyes as he sobs, and when he opens them, his suit is tainted and he's alone with the angry blue frowny alien.


End file.
